


One Heartbreak Closer to You

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Neighbors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-10-26 07:23:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17741462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: You’re not sure how you missed the fact that three fucking Avengers moved into the apartment across the hall from you, but you did, and now they always seem to be around at the most inopportune times.





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> This was partly inspired by rewatching AOU when Sam asks Steve if he's found an apartment in Brooklyn yet. Steve makes a comment about how he can't afford an apartment in Brooklyn, so I started to think about him and Sam as roommates. Also Bucky. Because I love Bucky Barnes with my entire heart and soul. 
> 
> This is a mini-series, so this will be a bit short. Hopefully you all like it! Quick disclaimer: I don't own Marvel or any of these characters except the reader. Also, **please don't re-post my work on any other websites without my written permission!** You can also read this on [Tumblr](http://sunlightdances.tumblr.com), if that suits you.

You’re in the lobby of your apartment building, staring at the elevator. The sign says “out of service” very clearly, but you just can’t comprehend it. Because today is grocery day. You’ve got five bags bursting to the seams with you, and you don’t think there’s any way you could possibly get them up six flights of stairs.

“Okay,” you say to yourself, heading for the stairs. “There’s nothing for it.”

By the time you get to your floor, the bags are close to bursting. Your hands and arms are aching, and you just  _ know _ one of the bags is going to break before you make it to your front door.

Sure enough, right outside, the bag bursts, sending all your fruit and veggies to the floor. “God dammit!” You curse loudly, dropping the rest of your bags with a  _ thump _ .

The door across the hall from you bursts open, and you shriek in surprise, tripping over one of the bags and ending up sprawled on the floor. The epitome of a graceful woman, you want the floor to swallow you whole when you see three  _ very attractive  _ guys looking down at you, alarm on their faces which quickly morphs into understanding.

“Oh.” One of them says.

“Are you okay?” The tallest one asks, and you blink, because that’s  _ Captain fucking America. _

“What?” You ask, eloquently.

“We heard--” The brunette - the  _ Winter Soldier _ \- starts, “We heard a noise--”

“Beginning to think that was the apples, Iceman.”

You’re just staring. You know you are, but what the hell are you supposed to do? You have no idea what to say. What are they doing here? Do they  _ live _ here? How long have they lived right here any you didn’t have a clue?

“Here,” a hand is thrust in front of you, and Bucky Barnes comes into your vision, helping you up.

“Thanks,” you murmur. “Uh, sorry. To startle you, I mean. I was struggling with the bags, and it broke, and…” You trail off. “Anyway.”

“Do you need any help getting anything inside?” You take a minute to appreciate that Steve Rogers is the only one looking at you with anything like sympathy. The other two are staring at you, suspicion in their eyes, and you really  _ really _ wish the elevator had been in service today.

“Uh, no-- I’m good. I’ll just--” You start picking up the fruit at your feet, hoping they’ll take the hint and go back inside.

“If you’re sure…”

You notice that Falcon has disappeared. Disappointed there isn’t more drama, probably. Cap lingers, eyes darting between you and his metal-armed friend, who is still there looking at you like he doesn’t quite know what to make of you.

“I’m good,” you reassure them, “really. Thanks.”

It’s quiet for a second and you think you’re alone. You’re still kneeled down and you take a second to let your head hang, letting out a breath. What a fucking day.

“You shouldn’t eat those.” A deep voice interrupts you, and you jump, because good  _ god _ he’s sneaky.

“What?”

“Bacteria.” He says, before turning on his heel and going back into the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

“ _ Bacteria _ ,” you repeat, not really believing that you’re not dreaming at this point. “What the hell?”

.

.

Inside 6C, Sam Wilson is looking at Bucky Barnes with the most shit-eating grin on his face.

“Don’t--”

“ _ Bacteria _ ?” Sam nearly yells, “ _ That’s _ what you came up with?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “What? It’s true!”

Steve snorts. “One pretty girl and you’re all aflutter, Buck.”

Bucky glares. He is infamous  _ former _ assassin. He is one of the world’s most deadly weapons. He’s the Winter  _ fucking  _ Soldier, for Christ’s sake. He does not do  _ aflutter _ .

Okay, sure, he’s noticed her before. Wondered about her, even. But it’s only because he’s observant, and it’s part of his job.  He wouldn’t even be living here in the first place if it weren’t for Steve and Sam, so why are they so on his case about this?

“God. Shut up. You heard the noise too, we didn’t know what was happening out there.”

Sam opens his mouth, but Steve beats him to it. “You’re right - look, I get it. This is still pretty new. We haven’t met a ton of people here. We’re always assuming the worst at anything out of the ordinary. But… maybe talk to her? Introduce yourself?”

“She knows who we are.” Bucky deadpans.

“She doesn’t know you’re Bucky Barnes. She knows you  _ used _ to be The Winter Soldier,” Sam interjects, somewhat fiercely. Sometimes it still surprises Bucky that he’s got Sam in his corner.

“Look, maybe I will. But I’m not-- I don’t want to meet anyone right now. Not yet.”

They drop it, but Bucky’s sure it’s not the last time he’s going to hear about this.

They’ve only lived here together for a few months. And it’s not even on a regular basis. Sam is here most of the time with Bucky, and Steve too, but Steve still spends some nights and weekends at the Compound with the others.

It’s easier for Bucky, here. In the city, in a normal apartment with roommates. This is what normal people’s lives are like, he thinks. He doesn’t go out a lot, still working up to being around large crowds.

That’s how he started noticing the neighbor, too.

She doesn’t go out a lot either, anymore. He used to hear her leaving her apartment every morning at 7:45, and coming back at 4:30, but now he doesn’t hear her leave until late in the morning, if she goes at all.

He wonders about it. He likes routine, so when things aren’t going as predicted, it sets him on edge, a little bit. He’s still not sure about living in a place where there are so many other people. Innocent people. So he’s suspicious.

Sam and Steve tell him he’s paranoid, that they’ve vetted everyone who lives here a hundred times. He just can’t risk it.

So yeah. Maybe he could have handled that incident in the hall better. Maybe he could have been a little more normal. But-- he’s  _ not _ . And that’s okay, or at least he’s trying to convince himself of that fact.

He hopes he didn’t totally freak her out. That’s the last thing he wants to do, actually. Sam is still chortling in the kitchen, and Bucky heaves a deep breath before joining his friends in the living room.

He hopes he sees her again soon.


	2. ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your friendship with Bucky progresses, but not without some awkward moments.

You’re making dinner a few nights later when there’s a knock on your door. You frown - you didn’t buzz anyone up to your floor. 

Looking out of the peephole, you don’t see anyone, so you slowly undo the locks and open the door. There’s a small paper bag in front of the door with a note attached, the loopy scrawl unfamiliar to you.

You bend down to pick it up and are surprised at the weight of the bag. Looking inside, a smile blooms across your face when you see it full with fresh fruit and veggies. The note on the front reads,  _ Hope these are better than the ones you dropped. - JB _

You instinctively look at the apartment across the hall, even though you know the door is closed. You find that you’re sort of disappointed that he didn’t wait long enough for you to come to the door, but you try not to take it personally.

Heading back to the kitchen, you shut and lock the door behind you, already planning ways you can use your newly acquired bounty in your dinner prep. It was a kind gesture, really. You half expected to never see the three of them again unless something crazy was going on.

You finish dinner - stir-fry vegetables with rice and warmed pita bread - and sit down to eat, when you find yourself staring at the door. What if you-- you shake your head, not giving yourself time to second guess.

Abandoning your plate, you quickly head across the hall and knock on the door. It’s only a few seconds before you can hear cautious footsteps.

The door opens a small fraction.

“Um, hi,” you say, waving.

The door opens wider. “Hi,” he says.

The two of you just… sort of stare at each other for a few seconds. “I just wanted to thank you for the groceries.” You tell him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “I-- It was nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

You smile, watching the tension in his shoulders slowly dissipate. “I used some of the stuff you got me and made dinner. I made too much, actually. I was wondering if you wanted to-- if you haven’t already eaten, that is--”

“I’d love to.” He blurts, looking surprised at his own words.

You smile again. “Okay. Well… follow me, then.”

You hear him shut the door behind him and flip the lock, and you smile before turning around. There’s nervous energy buzzing through you and him, but you’re determined not to show it.

He walks into your living room, keen gaze taking in every inch of his surroundings. His gaze lingers on the photos of you and your family, and a few of you and your friends. You watch as he reaches out and trails his hand over the back of your couch, before he looks up and meets your eyes, looking sheepish. “Sorry. That’s rude, I--”

“It’s fine, Bucky.” Your eyes widen. “I-- is it okay that I call you that? I can call you James--”

“Bucky is fine.” He says, a small smile on his lips. “I like your apartment. It’s a lot cozier than ours.”

He meets you at the small table where you’re dishing up a plate for him, before you both slide into your chairs.

“How long have you lived there?” You ask, genuinely curious. You don’t know how you missed them.

“A few months,” he says, gesturing with his right hand, fork and all. “Wanted to get away from… well, everything.”

You nod. You don’t really know what to say and now you’re worrying that you’re out of your depth. How do you talk to a guy like this? An actual superhero?

You’re both quiet for a few minutes, tucking into your food. You feel like you can practically hear the gears turning in Bucky’s head, and you want to laugh at how awkward you’re both being.

“What’s so funny?” He asks around a mouthful, the corner of his mouth tilting up in amusement. For a second you’re struck by the idea that he must look  _ incredible  _ when he smiles.

“Nothing, I just-- I feel so awkward. I’m sorry if I’m the worst host of all time.”

“Can’t be a worse host than I am a guest,” he points out, and you snort. He grins, and - yep, you were right. He’s got a great smile. “Conversation used to be my strong suit, I think.” He says, giving you a  _ look _ , and for a second you’re frozen, not sure if you should laugh or not. “It’s a joke,” he says. “You can laugh.”

“Sorry--”

He shakes his head. “No, you’re-- it’s fine. I’m still…” He trails off. You feel awful, immediately. The whole point of this was to treat him like your neighbor, like someone you could see becoming your friend.

“It  _ was _ funny.” You reassure him.

He looks at you with something like gratefulness in his eyes.

 

.

.

.

Bucky wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He’s practically vibrating with anxiety in the first place, and then he had to go and put his foot in it. He remembers when he was funny, sort of. He remembers a time, certainly, when he could crack a self-deprecating joke and people wouldn’t freeze, not sure how to react.

Still, she doesn’t seem put off. She takes it in stride and continues to eat like nothing’s out of the ordinary. He’s grateful for it. He just wants to have dinner with his neighbor.

When he bought her the groceries, he thought it was too much. Then he chickened out at the last second and dashed back into his apartment before she could find him there, lingering like an idiot. The only way it could have been worse is if Sam or Steve had been home. But he was alone for dinner tonight, another instance of the stars aligning so that he could be here with her right now.

He likes her apartment. It feels lived in. There’s memories all over the place - photos on the wall and gently-used books on the shelves and on the coffee table. There’s a collection of blankets on the couch and a mug in the sink.

She’s a great cook, too, if dinner is any indication. He can’t remember the last time someone cooked for him. It was probably at one of Stark’s mandatory-but-don’t-make-me-tell-you-it’s-mandatory team dinners. Somehow, this is better. He thinks it’s the company.

“So…” He starts, “What do you do?” It comes out more awkward than he intends it to, and he thinks he’s going to give her a run for her money in the ‘who’s more awkward’ contest.

She swallows. “Uh, I’m- sort of in between jobs right now.” She looks down at her plate. “Just, you know, exploring my options…”

He nods slowly. “Uh huh.” He pauses, “What sort of work are you looking for? Stark is always recruiting--”

“Oh, god, no.” She blurts, then blushes.. “Sorry! I just mean-- I’m definitely not cut out for that kind of thing. I mean, I can barely make it down the stairs without tripping over my own feet, let alone trying to fight off whoever it is--”

“I meant like, an office job, or something. At Stark Industries.” Bucky says, trying not to laugh at the look on her face. “I could see if there’s anything floating around.”

“Oh. Right.” She says, and shakes her head. “God, sorry. I don’t know why I’m so…” She just sort of, flails her hands about, and he’s positive it’s the cutest fucking thing he’s ever seen.

“What do you say we start over?” He asks, content with the way she immediately settles, a relieved albeit embarrassed smile on her face.

“Only if it means you’ll forget you met me sprawled on the floor in the hallway.”

He grins. “Not a chance.”

 

.

.

.

You see Bucky on and off for the next few weeks. You start ramping up your job search, so you see him in the mornings when you’re both leaving the building, and grab coffee from the place on the corner with him a few times.

Several of those times, Sam and Steve join you, but mostly it’s just you and Bucky. He’s a lot different than he seemed when you first met him. You catch glimpses of this stoic, serious person, mostly when you’re in a large crowd with him, but other times, he seems more sure of himself. More at ease.

You don’t take Bucky up on his offer to introduce you to Pepper Potts. It’s not that you don’t think you’d like the job, but you hate charity, and that’s what it feels like, even if you know he just wants to help you. He must have mentioned it to Steve, because now you’ve got  _ two _ super soldiers constantly badgering you to come to Stark Tower in Manhattan or come to the Avengers Compound upstate to meet her or meet the rest of the team.

You’re content here in your little apartment, and you don’t want to change that. Not right now.

There’s a week where you don’t see Bucky at all. You don’t think he’s home - you haven’t heard or seen anything happening in the apartment across the hall, and you wonder if he’s on some kind of mission.

The thought immediately makes your heart clench, and you know you have to get over yourself. You’ve only known the guy for a few weeks. You’re friends, and that’s all. There’s no reason for you to worry.

You’re on your way home from dinner with a friend when you stop at the coffee shop and are fumbling in your purse looking for cash when a hand thrusts itself towards the cashier, handing her a few bills.

Your heart flies to your throat until you recognize his voice. “This should cover it,” he says, his voice rough, and you turn around to greet him before the sound dies in your throat.

There’s no sugar-coating it - he looks terrible. He’s got dark circles under his eyes, and stitches with a butterfly bandage over his left eyebrow and on his cheekbone. He’s in  [ a t-shirt and sweatpants ](https://bitsandbobsandstuff.tumblr.com/post/180525082003/dorkbait-2015-graphite-watercolor-acrylic) , his hair pulled back from his face except for a few tendrils that have escaped around his ears.

“Hi,” you say, strangely breathless. “You scared me,” you say, a teasing tone to your voice, but he misses it and winces.

“Sorry. I was walking home and saw you.”

His voice is dull. No emotion.

“Are you okay?” You ask, trying to meet his eyes.

“Like, in general? Or right this minute?” His eyes dart up, and they’re a little wild, a little desperate. “Because right now, I feel like--” He stops himself when the barista calls your name, signalling your coffee is ready.

“Hang on,” you tell him, absently squeezing his metal hand as you brush by him to get to the counter.

When you glance back, he’s staring at his hand. Your heart clenches again.

“Come on,” you say softly, and he follows you without a word, exiting the shop with you so you can start walking. “Do you want to go home, or--”

“Can we-- will you walk with me?”

“Sure, Bucky.”

You let him lead the way, even though you don’t think he has a specific destination in mind. He’s frowning, and you wish you had the words to say to see that smile on his face again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask him quietly, not wanting to startle him.

He takes a deep breath. “Not really. I know I should, but…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

He stops on the sidewalk, looking down at you. He’s got a few inches on you, but it’s not intimidating. Especially not with the way his shoulders are hunched down, practically folding in on him. “I don’t know how to do this.” He says. “I don’t know how to be a person that other people depend on to help. I’ve done things…” he shakes his head, “I’ve done awful things.”

Your heart cracks a little, because you’ve always only seen him as a hero.

“Look,” you say, trying to find the words, “I don’t know what you’re going through. I can’t pretend to ever understand how you’re dealing with all this. But Bucky… the person I know? He’s a hero, okay? It’s a lot of responsibility, and it’s not fair, but you’re… it doesn’t matter who you were before now, because you didn’t have a choice. Now you get to choose who you want to be.”

He looks… stunned. Like he has no idea what to say. Frankly, you don’t know either. You’re terrified you’ve said the wrong thing, or that he’s going to turn on his heel and leave you here because you couldn’t possibly understand.

He doesn’t.

He just-- he  _ smiles _ , and that’s the first inkling you get that you’re about to be in big, big trouble when it comes to Bucky Barnes.

 

.

.

.

It’s late one night when Bucky hears your voice, loud, in the hallway. He’s on edge instantly because it’s almost two in the morning. Sam is asleep in his bedroom, and Bucky’s awake, still.

He creeps to the door slowly, trying to figure out if he’s just imagining things, or if you’re really out there.

He hears you again, and he cracks open the door and sees you down a couple doors, trying to fit your key into a lock that clearly isn’t yours. He’s momentarily distracted by the sight of you in a short, tight black dress, and a pair of high heels that make your legs look miles long.

You’re swaying a bit on your feet, and he grins when he realizes that you’re  _ drunk _ . He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you like this. He calls your name, and something inside him twists when you turn around, your eyes lighting up when you see him.

“Bucky!”

He smiles. “Hi. What are you doing down there?”

You frown. “Trying to go to bed, duh.”

“Uh huh.” He points a finger at your front door. “Might be easier if you don’t get arrested for breaking and entering, first.”

“What?”

He leaves his apartment and heads towards you, trying to get you away from the other apartment before whoever lives there hears you. “Wrong apartment, sweetheart.”

You giggle, the sound going straight to his heart. “That’s impossible. I’ve lived here for  _ years _ , Bucky.”

“I know. Since college, right? How did you get home after parties in college, huh?” He asks, guiding you towards your apartment.

“Slept at a friend’s.”

He hums. “Sounds like that might have been a good idea tonight.”

“I’m fine!” You protest. “You’re just-- a little blurry.” You poke him in the chest, and he bites back a laugh. “Can you--” You’re shoving your purse into his hands before he has a chance to get your keys out of your hands.

You lean down and take off your shoes, leaving them dangling from one hand, and Bucky suddenly has a vision of you like this in your apartment after one too many glasses of wine, eyes a little glossy but bright and happy, hair mussed and face flushed. He has a vision of himself there with you, smiling as you tell him bad jokes, and he has to almost physically shake himself out of it.

“That’s better,” you sigh. “Now. If you could kindly point me in the direction of my bed, I’m going to sleep for the next twelve hours.”

Bucky chuckles. “Good idea.” He takes your arm and turns you to face your front door, grabbing the keys from you and sticking the right key in the lock for you. “There.”

“What would I do without you, Bucky Barnes?”

Bucky can’t speak. He’s too-- he’s overwhelmed with affection and nervousness, and the realization that he’s starting to have real, actual feelings for you. It scares him half to death.

 

.

.

.

When you wake up the next morning, you have to force your vision to focus long enough for your head to stop aching. You groan, rolling over, seeing a gatorade and a bottle of ibuprofen on your nightstand.

There’s also a note.

“Oh, no…” you whisper, reading it, your mortification growing.

_ Drink up, and take these after you eat something. Hope you’re not feeling too bad today. You’re welcome for keeping you out of jail. - JB _

“God,” you groan, because you can barely remember seeing Bucky last night. You have a vague memory of strong arms helping you get into bed, and the cool touch of metal fingers to your cheek right before you drifted off.

But that had to be just your imagination, right?


	3. iii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Bucky have a misunderstanding after you have a no good, really bad day. After he talks you through it, you realize how to can repay him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end! Thank you everyone for your continued support and interest in this story. I hope you like the ending as much as I do!

Over the months you’ve become friends, you realize Bucky and his roommates have a penchant for showing up when you’re at your absolute worst. You’ve decided that you’re never, ever giving any of them a spare key, because while you think entrusting a key to a bunch of Avengers is probably a good idea in the long run, in the short run you can just see them showing up when you’re just out of the shower, or sick, or in some situation that would leave you mortified in the end.

The incident with Bucky essentially putting you to bed when you were drunk a while back is evidence enough. You’re only more sure about your decision when you run into Sam at the end of a very long, very bad day.

He must see you coming through the lobby, because he holds the elevator for you, even though you barely register that it’s him.

“Hi, Sam, it’s so great to see you, Sam,” he says sarcastically.

“Sorry– hi.” You say, watching as he pushes the button for your floor. “I’m just… bad day.”

He frowns, crossing his arms and leaning against the elevator wall. “What’s going on?”

You roll your eyes. “Calm down, Superfriend. Nothing nefarious. Just a long day of getting rejected by more employers, you know.”

The elevator dings, signalling your floor. Sam gestures for you to go out ahead of him. “I’m sorry,” he says, “You’ll catch a break soon.”

“Yeah. Maybe. Thanks, Sam.” You say, heading into your apartment and shutting the door behind you before he can say anything else. You just want to wallow for a little while. Curl up in bed with your laptop and put on some pointless TV show and take a nap for about five hours.

You take a long shower, get into your favorite comfy clothes, and decide to camp out on your bed. It’s hard for you to shake off all the negativity you heard all day long during interviews and a meeting with your recruiter. You’re beginning to think you’re going to end up jobless and homeless before the year is up.

You fall asleep at some point during your TV-watching, and you’re woken up by knocking on your front door. You feel so drained. You really don’t want to see anyone, and you already know who it is. A glance at your phone confirms you have a bunch of texts from Bucky.

_5:34 Hey. Sam said you were having a bad day? Let’s get pizza._

_6:01 You okay? Here if you want to talk._

_6:35 Sam told me to leave you alone but I wanted to let you know we ordered pizza. If you’re hungry just knock. We’ll save you some. Hope you’re feeling better._

The last one makes you smile. The whole thing makes you smile, begrudgingly. It didn’t take you long to realize why Bucky Barnes was Captain America’s best friend. The way he cares about people… you have a hard time sometimes reconciling his assassin past with the person you’ve gotten to know.

You know he’s worried about you, even though it’s unnecessary. You get up and shuffle over to the front door, pulling your blanket around you like a cape.

Looking through the peephole, you sigh. It’s him, hands shoved in his pockets, frown lines on his forehead. You know you should open the door and let him see you’re alright, but you just– can’t. You’re exhausted, mentally and physically.

“I can hear you,” he says quietly, and then makes a face. “Sorry. That’s weird.”

You don’t say anything. For whatever reason, you don’t want him to see you like this. He’s got enough on his plate and doesn’t need to deal with you being a crybaby because you’re having a hard time. He’s an Avenger, for fuck’s sake. He’s got bigger problems.

“Just… if you need anything, will you let me know?” He asks, and you could swear he’s meeting your eyes in the peephole. “Hang in there.”

You feel like an idiot. He’s your friend. He just wants to help, but you’re so busy wallowing you can’t stand the thought of trying to act like you’re okay around him tonight.

You make a mental note to thank him tomorrow.

.

.

.

Bucky feels like an idiot.

He doesn’t know the…. Protocol for this. He doesn’t want to be annoying or clingy, but he’s worried about you.

He knows better than anyone what it’s like to need some space. He just didn’t realize how much he’s gotten used to seeing you or at least talking to you every day. It’s making him realize that maybe he’s in over his head here. Maybe he’s more attached than he should be.

But it’s too late to worry about that now. He thinks of the way you hovered on the other side of the door, not wanting to let him in or even talk to him. This hasn’t happened in your friendship before and he’s at a loss about what to do.

Every instinct is telling him to go over there and make sure you’re okay, but another quieter part of him is telling him to leave you alone. You’ll come to him when you’re ready.

There’s a third, smaller part of him that wonders if it’s just because it’s him. He tries to shake it off. Sam and Steve both told him he was overreacting. He thinks they’re probably right, but as he checks his phone for the hundredth time this morning, there’s still nothing from you, and he absently rubs at the spot on his chest where his heart is.

.

.

.

You can’t get out of bed. You barely slept the night before, too busy thinking about every job interview you’ve been on lately and why you haven’t been given a chance. You’re thinking about the bills piling up and that spirals into thinking about how much of a failure you think you are.

You think about Bucky.

He’s been such a bright spot in your life lately, but you don’t know how you’re ever supposed to compare to him. He’s a hero. He turned his life around and now he lives with his two best friends.

You’re… alone. You’ve got your few friends, but you’re doing nothing to improve your life. It’s a dark and depressing thought, but you still can’t help but wonder what the hell he’s doing wanting to be around someone like you.

It’s eleven in the morning when there’s another knock on your door.

“Kid?”

Shit. It’s Steve.

“Look, we know you’re in there, and we know you haven’t left your place all day. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

You groan to yourself, pulling the blanket up over your head.

“If you’re in trouble, you can tell me.” He says, louder, and you throw the blankets back in frustration. Damn him and his heart of gold. You’re a little worried he might think you’re dead and break the door down.

You trudge over to the front door and pull it open just a crack. Steve looks mildly surprised, but to his credit, doesn’t say anything about how tired you know you must look.

“I’m not dead.”

“I didn’t think you were–”

“Sam is a tattletale.”

Steve sighs. “Look, this is heavy. Will you just let me in?”

You realize he’s got a crock pot in his hands. “It’s  _heavy_? You’re a super soldier.”

He grins. “Yeah, well. Move over.”

He shoulders past you and goes into your kitchen, setting the crock pot down on the island. It smells good, and you can tell it’s some kind of casserole.

“Breakfast.” He says, turning around to face you. He keeps his face neutral. “Anything we should know about?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m  _fine_. I’m just a little…” You shrug, “I don’t know. Depressed. Discouraged. Take your pick. I just needed to wallow for a bit.”

“I get it. Listen, you’re going to land on your feet, okay? Don’t hesitate to ask us for anything if you need it.”

“Thanks for the food.” You say, smiling softly at him.

“Don’t thank me.”

You blink at him.

“Thank Bucky. He made it; it was his idea.”

Something tightens in your chest. “Why isn’t he here?” You ask, ignoring the way your voice cracks a little bit.

Steve grins. “You both are pretty stubborn, you know? I tried to tell him…” He shakes his head. “He thinks he did something wrong. He thinks you didn’t want to see him, but he was worried about you.”

Your heart plummets. You feel like a world-class loser. You think of the unread texts on your phone and how he was literally right on the other side of that door and still… you wouldn’t talk to him.

“Where is he now?”

“He’s in his room.”

“Can I…”

Steve looks surprised, but tries to hide it. “Uh, sure. Come on.” He leads you across the hall and points out Bucky’s bedroom. “In there.

“Thanks, Steve.” Before you can talk yourself out of it, you hug him, just for a few seconds. He pats your back awkwardly.

“Like I said… don’t thank me.”

You smile gratefully before turning to face the closed door in front of you. Raising your fist, you knock lightly. “Bucky? It’s me.”

.

.

.

Bucky’s almost dozing when he hears your voice. He lifts his head off the pillow, brow furrowing, getting up slowly and heading towards his bedroom door.

When he opens it, you’re there, and the shy smile you give him is like a balm for his worried heart.

“Hi.” You say.

“Hi.” He can’t stop the smile spreading across his face, nor can he stop the hand that reaches for you, tugging on the end of your braided hair lightly. You blush, and he’s well and truly gone.

“I’m gonna just…. Go.” Steve says, amused, heading into his own bedroom and shutting the door.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Punk.” He can feel the tips of his ears burning, turning pink.

You’ve got this look in your eyes… he’s never seen it before. It’s something like determination, something like mischief, and Bucky can feel his heart rate speeding up.

“You made me breakfast.”

He shrugs. “I made some for us, too. I got hungry.” He tries to play it off.

“You made me  _breakfast_  after I ignored you for an entire day.”

Bucky swallows. He knew you were avoiding him, and he’d hoped it wasn’t deliberate, but hearing it from your lips… he can’t deny it hurts a little, even though he trusts you weren’t trying to upset him.

He scratches the back of his neck. “You were upset. I– I just wanted to help, if I could.”

You shake your head. “Bucky Barnes, you old sap.”

He narrows his eyes, but he’s still smiling, seemingly unable to stop when he’s around you. “How dare you.”

“Any chance you’re still hungry and want to eat with me? It’s getting cold over there.” You say, that sparkle in your eyes again.

Wordlessly, he nods. He follows you across the hall, trying to stop himself from reaching out for you, linking your fingers together, wanting to be closer to you if he can. The sun is bright in your apartment, and as the two of you sit down across from each other at your small kitchen table, eating a late breakfast together, he finally admits to himself what he’s known deep down all these months - he’s falling in love with you, if he’s not completely there already.

You’ve seen him at his worst, when he was seconds away from losing himself after a mission, and you’ve trusted him to let you in, even this much - taking care of you even in some small way after a bad day. He wants more of that. That trust… it’s intoxicating, but all he knows is that he’d rather spend all his bad days with you than not have you around at all.

.

.

Bucky leaves in the early afternoon, reluctantly, but headed to Avengers Tower for a debriefing of their next mission.

You feel a weight lifted off your chest when he gives you a hug before leaving, feeling so relieved that you’ve cleared the air. He never asked questions about what happened the day before, and never tried to get you to tell him more than you wanted to.

You find yourself feeling lighter and more inspired than ever, so before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re pulling out your laptop and beginning to write.

An hour later, you’re sending something off to a friend, and hoping for the best. You only hope that the people in your life will be as excited as you are if this goes well.

That night you’re still pulling on a shoe and trying to keep your bag on your shoulder as you head out of your apartment, and hear the  _ding_  of the elevator. Bucky and Steve get off, and you shout at them to hold the elevator for you.

“Hi, thank you,” you say breathlessly, pulling your hair out of your face.

“Where’s the fire?” Steve asks, Bucky looking on, amused.

“Got a lead. A job. Maybe. I don’t know yet. But they want to meet in a half hour and I’m going to be late, so–”

“Sorry–” Steve and Bucky both move at the same time to get out of the elevator so you can go down. “Do you want a ride?” Bucky asks.

“It’s okay, I’ll fill you in when I get back. Thanks!”

The doors slide shut and you can barely contain your excited laughter as you think about the interview you’re about to have. Your mood has completely turned around in a day, and you hope that Bucky will be happy for you when you show him what you’re working on.

.

.

Bucky and Steve are halfway through some action movie when there’s rapid-fire knocking on their apartment door.

“You go,” Steve says, a sly smile on his face, “It’s her.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Punk.” He gets up, heading over to the door, where she’s still knocking. “Don’t knock down the door, I’m–” He stops when he opens it and sees you there, practically bouncing on your heels, tears in your eyes.

“What happened? Are you hurt? What–”

“No, no, no. I’m fine. I’m happy, I’m– I got a job!” You say, and he feels relief, happiness, and pride all well up inside him.

“That’s amazing,” he says, and he’s moving before he can stop himself, sweeping you up in a hug, your feet barely touching the ground as he embraces you, feeling your forehead meet his neck, your breathy laugh causing a shudder to run through him.

“I have something to show you. It’s how I got my job, and I– well, you’ll see. Can I…” you look past him into the apartment, waving at Steve.

“Oh, yeah. Come in.”

Steve’s watching curiously, but Bucky only has eyes for you. You’re– well, you’re always the prettiest thing in any room to him, but right now? You’re radiant, and he’s  _in love with you_ and it’s probably written all over your face.

“Okay.” You pull something out of your bag. “After we talked earlier I was… I don’t know. I felt better. So I decided to write something, and sent it to a friend of mine who is a writer at this magazine downtown. She passed it on to their editor, and then they wanted to talk to me about it.”

You spread it out on the table, and Bucky’s immediately drawn to the photos. They’re of him, mostly. It’s him, and Sam, and Steve, taken at their apartment, your apartment… a few with you and him. He’s never seen them before. His throat feels tight.

“I wrote this, and I want you to know that it’s never going to see the light of day unless you want it to, Bucky. But I… I really think this is the best piece I’ve ever written. I’m proud of it, and I want you to be, too.”

Steve is touching the photos almost reverently, his eyes moving rapidly as he reads the first few paragraphs. “Wow.”

“Will you– will you read it?” You ask Bucky, wringing your hands together, and he nods, unable to speak.

The article is about him. He doesn’t really read the headline, instead skimming the article and taking in a few sentences at a time.

_“… former POW who has rebuilt his life and is dedicating himself to protecting those he loves and cares about…”_

_“… returned to his roots in Brooklyn with his closest friends, who can often be found arguing over the remote and what to make for dinner…”_

_“… an old soul with a kind heart, one that deserves to have his story told…”_

He can’t read anymore. Not that he doesn’t want to, but he literally can’t. Bucky Barnes, formerly The Winter Soldier, thinks he might cry.

“If it’s terrible, or if I’ve overstepped, I won’t do anything with it. They hired me. They told me they wanted to publish this, but I’m hired regardless. So you don’t have to worry about it getting out if you don’t want it to.”

“This is really good.” Steve says, a little emotional himself. “Buck?”

Bucky can’t speak. His heart rate is so elevated Steve can probably hear it, and he’s never felt like this.

“If you hate it, I’m so sorry. I just– I care about you so much, and you’ve done so much for me. I wanted to give you the story you deserve–”

Bucky cuts you off by taking two quick steps towards you, taking your face in his hands, tilting it upwards, before planting a kiss on you that he thinks he should probably be embarrassed about, but he doesn’t care.

He’s tired of pretending that he doesn’t care about you like this, that he doesn’t want you with everything he has in him, and that he’s just your friend and neighbor.

You changed his life the minute he met you, sprawled out in your hallway, cracking jokes, and he doesn’t want to let you go another day without knowing that.

When you break apart, you’re both panting, your eyes a little hazy and unfocused. “You’re perfect,” he says, “and I’m stupid for waiting so long to do that. I– I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

It’s your turn to be speechless, and Bucky starts to feel a little cocky despite himself. “You… you want me to publish it?”

“No one else I’d trust with the job.”

You launch yourself at him again, and he’s ready for you, sweeping you back into his arms as warmth spreads through his entire body. He’s never felt this, this all-encompassing affection and lust and  _love_  and he’s certain he’s never been happier in his entire life than he is right now.

Later, after everything, after Steve deems it safe to come back in the room, the three of you read the entire thing. Well, you read it out loud, to Steve and Bucky. It’s important to him that Steve approves too, and he can tell that your words are affecting his oldest friend just like they are him.

“Print it,” Steve says, eyes fierce. “You deserve this, Buck.”

.

.

.

You’ve been on the job for two months. It’s better than you ever imagined it could be. The feedback on Bucky’s profile piece had been tremendous, and you’ve had so much fun profiling other people in New York and sharing their stories.

That, added in to the euphoria of the honeymoon phase of your relationship with Bucky made you feel like you were on top of the world.

It’s grocery day again, and once more, the elevator is out. You almost laugh at the deja vu. But this time one key thing is different.

“Going my way?” A low voice asks from behind you.

You thought you were going to beat Bucky home today, but it turns out just barely.

“Hand ‘em over,” He says, grinning at you. He takes your grocery bags with ease and offers his other arm to you, winking before guiding you over to the stairs. He’s in sweats and a t-shirt that is so tight it honestly should be illegal. He’s recently cut his hair, short on the sides but still a little long on the top - closer to what he had before the War. He looks awfully handsome, and he knows it, the little shit.

Upstairs, you dig out your keys, letting him into your apartment where he heads to the kitchen to drop off your bags.

Your apartment is littered with his things - a sweatshirt here, a few books on the coffee table there. He stays here more often than not, only going back to his place when he’s worried the nightmares will be too much or when you both feel like you need a night or two on your own.

It’s more than you ever thought it would be when you first realized you had superhero neighbors.

“For you,” he says, producing a rose out of who knows where, a shy smile on his face.

“What for?” You ask, clutching it to your chest, before leaning up to press a kiss to his scruffy cheek.

“It’s been a year since we met.”

Your entire body goes soft. “You remembered the day?”

He tries to brush it off. “Sort of. Just dawned on me, you know. Not like I’ve been circling days on my calendar.”

You grin. “You charming man, you.”

He rolls his eyes playfully before drawing you into a kiss that leaves your toes curling inside your shoes and sends a wave of goosebumps up your arms.

Yeah. This superhero neighbor thing is really working out for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can see the full list of my Bucky-centric stories as well as fics for other fandoms on my [blog!](http://sunlightdances.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me a comment and let me know what you think!


End file.
